


You remind her, that the future's (just a few heartbeats away from disaster)

by brokenbeauty



Category: Free!
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Car Sex, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29155638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenbeauty/pseuds/brokenbeauty
Summary: So they think they've resolved their differences--but what more? What next? What is the way forward--and is a late-night drive really the best way to find out?Based on the Free! DF Drama CD -- Haruka and Rin's Drive.
Relationships: Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	You remind her, that the future's (just a few heartbeats away from disaster)

**Author's Note:**

> QSO HELLO SIXTH YEAR WRITING FOR RIN'S BIRTHDAY. 
> 
> HAPPY fucking bday to this snotnosed, bratty kid. I feel like I've watched him grow so much and develop, and this fic is just really a self-indulgent tribute to that. 
> 
> This is based on [this drama CD](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QJDN_qi7DI), so I'd strongly recommend listening to this before reading the fic.

_Nervous._ Haruka’s nervous. It’s doesn’t—has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Rin’s back in Japan, that he’s currently calling shotgun beside Rin in a cramped Toyota on their way to a training camp, just another in the long list they’ve been booked into for the summer. Nothing to do, either, with the fact that it’s the first time he’s been in such close quarters with the other man since he’s returned, and although it’s not like it used to be last summer with him constantly on edge and the tension simmering just under the surface, it’s a lot. Lot like he can’t quite describe. It’s not that he still resents Rin for always, always pushing him—quite the opposite, actually. He’s grateful to him for, in a way, plucking him out of his shell and putting him where he is now. Perhaps more than grateful. And that _more—_ but here he’s interrupted by Rin’s voice cutting across the silence that has seeped into the crevices of the past two hours and numbed his fingers and toes despite the summer heat.

“There’s… another three hours till we reach the training camp,” he says, fiddling with the GPS while frowning at it like it’s done him a personal offence. Haruka fights the urge to smirk. For all Rin’s jabs about him being bad with technology, he isn’t much cop at it either. “You can sleep if you want, Haru.”

“You’re such a rough driver that I’m too worried to fall asleep here.” Haruka replies, and it’s only half a lie. Rin does drive badly. Or maybe it’s too much like his swimming for comfort. Either way, it’s just more incentive to keep his eyes open, to somehow prolong the scattered conversations which are always, always too short for his liking—even when, try as he might, he has nothing to add to them himself. Nothing that he can add, really, without exposing parts of himself he’s kept under wraps ever since he grew a pair of eyes and really _looked_ at Rin for once, instead of seeing in him only a worthy adversary. And he’s scared, a little, of that gulf he can feel widening between Rin, so golden and glittering on one precipice, and himself on the other.

And then Rin laughs, and maybe he’s scared of that, too, the way he likes to look at him when he knows the other can’t see, like one day he saw the spark in his eyes with the water droplets rolling off of him, catching in his hair, and hasn’t been able to stop seeing him since. But he laughs like he can’t see what’s written plain in Haruka’s eyes, says _speak for yourself,_ and Haruka can’t stop the confession from forcing its way past his lips.

“Besides…” he begins, except that there’s no besides, that it’s at best a poor attempt to sound offhand in a kind of honesty that he couldn’t have imagined coming from himself a year ago. But old habits die hard.

“Huh?” Rin’s surprised, understandably so. This is probably the first time in two hours that Haruka’s carried the conversation himself.

“…This is the only time we can talk properly.” He’s an adult now, Haruka keeps telling himself, that this isn’t somehow forbidden and that they can talk about such things now. It’s not—not too much, too open, too honest. And yet, he’s balling his hands into fists, tensing his body as if to brace for physical impact in expectation of Rin’s reply.

“Well…” Rin sighs, stretches, cat-like. “Since I’ve been back in Japan, both you and I have been stuck in training camps practicing, I guess.”

Haruka relaxes a tiny bit. It’s a normal response, a conversational one, even—and yet. And yet it’s not what he wants, somehow. He sets his jaw. “It’ll be like this until the All-Japan Swimming Championships. It can’t be helped.”

He can’t be—can’t be seen as too eager. It’s suicide. But then Rin laughs again, a wry chuckle, and his heart jumps in his chest.

“But what we did today was pretty crazy, huh?” Rin’s face, luminous even under the street lights, lights up in reminiscence of their escapade.

“It’s not crazy. It’s free.” Haruka doesn’t find anything about the statement particularly funny, but Rin chuckles anyway.

“There he goes again.” He looks like he’d have liked to touch Haruka, then, some stupid fond gesture, but his hands are on the steering wheel and the moment passes. Haruka holds his breath for a second, relieved he hasn’t, wishing he had. But the conversation’s turned to him again, and he scrambles to find something he can safely say in that one, disorienting moment.

“They all worked really hard for the high school championship.” Haruka finally lands on the topic of his juniors. It’s safe. They ground him. Briefly, he wonders what Ikuya is doing right now. Having dinner, probably, after the exhaustion of the tournament. He’s not given too much time to follow that inane line of thought to its end, though, because Rin makes a noise of agreement and instantly all his attention is riveted there.

“Yeah, since it’s their last tournament in high school,” he says, and a flood of remembrance stabs Haruka straight in the gut.

“It reminds me of us last year,” he replies, wonders for a brief second whether Rin cherishes those memories, too, as much as he does, keeps them locked up in a little box to be remembered at special moments. Even the fights. The awful indecisions and the anger and the frustration, simply because they come with _Rin_ and his fleeting touch against his skin, his hugs and his rare, full-chested laughs.

“Yeah, we were totally like that.” Rin’s voice is warm, and all it’s telling Haruka is that yes. Yes, he does remember them. Cherish them. “We couldn’t tell when we were part of it then, but we were fired up, we were reckless, and it kind of makes you wanna cry.” And then he sighs. Looks ahead like he doesn’t quite see the road, but something else. The sight he’d never seen before. “It’s a memorial summer we’ll never return to.”

“Waxing poetic, huh?” Haruka’s voice is light, trying to dispel the sudden dip in the atmosphere, and it works. Rin reddens, tells him to shut up, and that should be that. Except that Haruka can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop returning to that one point of that past—because it’s all he feels like he has with Rin, really. Their future—it’s not theirs by any means, Rin sometimes seems so distant, far away on a plane that he can’t reach. So he comes back to the past. “But then, that’s what we were like.”

“Yeah,” Rin hums in affirmation. “It’s only been one year, but it feels like such a long time ago.”

And it does. Haruka’s whole world has changed, shifted, broadened in that one year. He’s left his hometown where he thought he’d grow old, for Tokyo. Rin’s left the country. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, it’s what his grandmother used to say. He’d never believed it. But then again, he’d never had anyone like Rin to miss. So acutely sometimes it felt like a raw edge in his chest that nothing could soothe but the other’s voice. Those were the nights he’d pick up the phone and call Rin, international call tariffs be damned, and they’d talk for hours, sometimes. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d want to do—or have the courage to. It’s just that it’s Rin and he’s—it’s a dangerous thought.

“You sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” he tries for something normal, prays that the thoughts superimposed onto his mind don’t show on his face.

“Nope. I’m fine.” Rin says, flexes his fingers on the steering. “When it comes to driving technique, I’m better than you.”

His voice is playful. He’s baiting him. But like he always does with Rin, Haruka takes the bait. “Are you implying that I have better swimming technique than you, then?”

The Rin of a year ago would have gotten flustered. But the man who sits beside him now just smiles. “That’s what we’re going to find out at the All-Japan Championships next week, right?” Then, after a beat of silence, the expression fades from his face. “Are you nervous?”

“If I was nervous, I wouldn’t have snuck out in the middle of training camp to go cheer for Rei and the others.” And really, why is Haruka the one out of his depth? It’s a stupid question, even to himself—much as Rin might believe otherwise, he always, always has Haruka at a disadvantage.

“That’s true.” Rin nods, and Haruka just looks at the movement of his head, long hair almost brushing his shoulders, for a moment. He wants to reach out and… touch it.

“Did you drive while you were in Sydney, too?” he asks, to drive that thought to the outside edges of his consciousness where it would, hopefully, no longer bother him.

“Hmmm… only on my off days,” Rin replies, glances over at Haruka. “What about you, Haru?”

“I don’t get much of a chance to drive in Tokyo.” Haruka’s skin prickles under even that cursory look, and all he’s hoping is that Rin doesn’t notice it, the way his blood courses just that bit faster under his skin when he’s the focus of the other man’s attention.

“You live in the city, so I guess you really don’t have to.” Rin says, with a little shake of his head—and somehow, Haruka doesn’t want this unexpected conversation to end. Not just yet.

“What’s it like living in Sydney?” He doesn’t want to know, so much as to see the light come into Rin’s eyes when he talks about something he likes—and he can be selfish here, a little, keep his part in Rin’s life even when it’s an ocean and a continent away. He thinks so.

“It’s pretty good. I train with my friends every day, and then we go eat.”

It’s pretty simplistic, as far as descriptions go, but something tugs at Haruka’s chest even as he opens his mouth to ask. “So you’ve made new friends over there?”

“Yeah,” Rin says, and he looks so _happy_ that Haruka almost forgets the constricting of his chest at the simple affirmation. “There’s David, Chris, Johann, my coach Mikhail, and many more.”

He doesn’t want to ask. It’s jealous, petty, and downright stupid. But he has to know. Some part of him, some clinging, anxious part that lives for those two, three hours they spend some nights talking about their lives, training, coaches, future—anything that catches their fancy, snatching thoughts out of thin air and laying them out for the other to see, wants that reaffirmation. Is ready to take that risk.

“Were you able to see a sight you’ve never seen before with these friends?”

“Eh?” Rin is silent for a moment. Then, “I wonder…”

It’s not an outright rejection, and Haruka is about to change the subject, say something completely unrelated, but then Rin continues where he left off.

“I probably did see it, but… nothing compares to the sight I saw when I swam with you and the others, I don’t think.” He tilts his head to the side, thinking. Makes to say something, then thinks better of it and turns to Haruka. “What about you, Haru?”

Haruka sucks in a breath, heartbeat quickening. Having the question turned back on him was the last thing he’d been expecting—especially when there was one answer. Just the one—and he couldn’t quite force it past his lips. So he settles for the most brief, noncommittal way he can phrase the avalanche of emotions coursing through him at Rin’s response. “Same here.”

Rin laughs at that, the same wry chuckle that warns Haruka something inevitable is coming. And the way the mirth fades off his features, rearranging them into something more somber as he takes a deep breath is just confirmation on that. “But we can’t stay like this. We can’t stay fixated on the past and be stuck in our memories, right?”

And that’s it, the inevitability—that forgone conclusion Haruka’s been trying to run from for so long. That they have to move on, that there’re no rewinds in life. And now that it’s here, all he can do is accept it. He—they—can’t live in the past. He can’t live out his entire life clinging on to the ghosts of what had been. And if that means daring to hope for a future—a future with Rin—then well, he doesn’t really have a choice.

“Yeah.” Haruka exhales, and his next words are almost a sigh. “We’ll move forward. Forward into the future.”

Rin snorts at that. “You’re pretty poetic yourself, Haru.”

And Haruka knows he’s reddening, but Rin’s laughing now, his full, unrestrained laugh—and really, he doesn’t even care that he’s poking gentle fun at him because he gets to hear that sound ring through the car like a favorite soundtrack. And then the taller yawns, stretches, cracks his knuckles.

“Actually, I _am_ pretty tired,” he says, looking around. “We got up early after all, so let’s take a break. There’s a service area around here.”

“Yeah.” Haruka nods as Rin angles the car around to the service area, finds a parking spot. It’s late enough that there are no cars parked around, and they’re alone apart from a few stray shrubby trees lazily waving their arms to the balmy breeze. It’s summer, a clear, starry July night, and Haruka feels like he could stay like this forever with the low hum of the car engine beneath him and the air sitting thick on his skin where their windows are cranked down.

“Let’s nap for an hour?” Rin is already reaching around beside his seat to pull the lever that lowers it back, and some part of Haruka wants to protest, doesn’t want to fall asleep when it’s Rin next to him and they could be making up for lost time—but it’s too eager. Too much. All he can really do is tell him _okay,_ submit to the tiredness that’s settled into his bones like an old favorite sweater—he’s been resisting it for just time, more time with Rin—but yeah. He’s tired, too, taxed to his limit by this proximity to the other man.

“Do you know how to put your seat down?” he asks, and of course Haruka does, would in theory—but somehow the very movements of his hands have become abrupt, spasmodic—and it’s all Rin fault, the way he looks out for him, the way he’s looking _at_ him now. It’s only with a herculean effort that Haruka can manage to force his hands to find the lever, pull it down to put his seat back.

“Right here?” Relief floods him when the back relaxes, letting him push it down, and Rin hums, shutting down the car engine.

“Yeah.”

It’s silent for a bit, then, both of them finding comfortable positions to lie in—and Haruka would be a liar and a hypocrite into the bargain if he said that he wasn’t hyperaware of the space between them that seemed too closed for comfort even with the windows down. He doesn’t—doesn’t even know why it’s bothering him this much, this whole situation. He isn’t one, he doesn’t think, to be overly bothered about things like these. Emotions aren’t his forte, and the way he gets on is by refusing to think about them too often—but then again, he can’t refuse Rin anything. Not even the pride of place in his thoughts, which have been increasingly consumed by him since he’s been back. It’s torture—the cruelest form, those little glimpses and snatches of conversation which are all he’s been able to get of him. And maybe he’s a horrible narcissist for thinking this, but it’s not—worthwhile, not _free,_ if Rin isn’t constantly looking for him in the lane next to himself. Oh, the irony.

“This reminds me,” Haruka breathes in the air which smells faintly of chlorine and somewhat, tantalizingly, like Rin’s shampoo—and maybe it’s that strange combination of stimuli that brings back another memory from the little locked box, that leads him to say what he does next. “Around this time last year… we slept together like this, Rin.”

It's a risk. A definite risk. But what the hell. They’re not the same people they were back in that whirlwind summer, and maybe, maybe—they can talk about it now, that one moment where Haruka felt like Rin saw him, too, where they’d just about come the closest they ever have to skirting that unspoken boundary between themselves. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part, but with the other man, he’s learnt to trust the pull. Trust what his gut tells him, because the odds are that what he’s thinking, Rin’s doing. Rin—he’d wanted to tell the other something, something Haruka had been too afraid of to ask. And then they’d fallen asleep, just like this, and in the morning the moment had passed them by. Forever.

But he wants to know. He wants to know, still, what the other man had wanted to say that night a year ago—and he doesn’t think, even after everything, that he has the courage. As things are, though, the words are out and all he can do is wait for Rin to process it, to respond.

“Huh?” Rin considers for a moment, looking genuinely puzzled, and Haruka almost gasps when it hits him, blush spreading so fast across his face it makes him dizzy. He’s awful at English—but the connotations of _sleeping together_ are very, very different in the foreign language, as they are in Australia. He tears his gaze away. Surely Rin didn’t think—but he fights the urge to turn away and hide his burning face from the other man, for fear of making this more than sufficiently awkward. When he steals a glance at the other man in the moment of silence that follows, he looks calmer than he’d come to expect from the old Rin—despite the light flush that’s dusted itself across his cheekbones. “Oh, you mean that hotel in Sydney?”

Haruka nods, embarrassment passing when he sees that Rin is seemingly unperturbed. That answer—he’s quickly realizing that if he wants to find it, coax it out from Rin’s locked box, he’ll have to give a little of himself in exchange. A bit of honesty. It, somehow, comes easier than he expects it to. “…My whole world changed since that day.”

“And it’ll keep on changing.” Rin says, eyes limpid with promise when he turns to look at Haruka—and fuck, he—he can’t say a word in response to them. “Yours, and mine.”

“I wonder what we’ll be doing next year at this time.” He changes the subject—rather obvious, but he was right. He doesn’t have the courage. Because really, how can he pursue it, what Rin might, might not, think and feel about him—not when just his answering smile makes him feel like he could just stay like this, like it’s enough for now?

“Maybe we’ll be at a hotel somewhere in the world where there’s a tournament going on.” Rin says, holding Haruka’s gaze. His tone is light, joking, but there’s an undercurrent to it that puts Haruka on his guard, hackles rising. “And we’ll make the same mistake and end up sleeping next to each other again.”

“Never again.” Haruka replies, and it’s, again, half true. He’s torn between binaries—that overwhelming, intoxicating scent of Rin, his warmth and his almost-touch, full of possibility, on one end, and Haruka’s fear—that this possibility wouldn’t be something he could easily, if ever, recover from—on the other. Rin just laughs, and for a moment, the other is struck by how _easy_ it is for him, the camaraderie, without the million and one fears, those half-formed avenues that conjure themselves for Haruka up with each word Rin says. It makes him morose, almost, but he wants—so many things it hurts, but in particular— “I want to swim relay again.”

Rin seems taken aback for a moment, but then he chuckles, voice soft. Maybe, Haruka thinks, he even gets it. That he doesn’t always want to push him from the adjoining lane. That perhaps, they can create something new—something better and more beautiful—together. His voice, when he next speaks, rises in a way that reminds Haruka of that old bit of his, the passionate, excitable one he never could quite let go of. “…Let’s swim together, Haru. But on the world stage, this time!”

“Yeah.” Haruka feels, in that moment, like his voice will betray him and everything he feels for the man sitting next to him. He tries to quell it, but he’s pretty sure Rin can see it, how much it affects him. “One day, definitely.”

Rin just smiles at him in that way he smiled when he was thirteen and sixteen and now that he’s eighteen, he smiles the same way. It makes Haruka think—that he’s never smiled like that for anyone but him. He yawns, stretches, and closes his eyes, somehow still beautiful and a bit blurry around the edges. And it’s too much, too soon, but he can’t—can’t hold it back. He fights, he does, but he can’t stop his gaze from wandering to Rin, the curve of his throat and the flutter of his long, shut eyelashes even as he waits it out. The words are at his lips, and no matter how many long moments slip away from them, they’re not something can swallow back down. He knows—whenever he’s forced to speak again, they’ll tumble out first thing he says.

“…Rin.”

And he’s not scared, he’s terrified. But he’s also not, in a way, because he feels like they’ve got something stronger than a few misplaced words between themselves, something that looks and feels like the first breath of air at the end of the lane, the brilliant light that makes them blink in surprise when their heads breach the water. But his palms are sweating even as the seconds tick away without a reply—and then Haruka, finally daring to look over at the other again, realizes. “…He’s asleep.”

The whole situation is so absurd that Haruka’s laughing before he realizes it, looking Rin over unabashedly now that he can’t return his gaze with a questioning one of his own. Furtively, he reaches over to brush a strand of hair from the other’s face, moonlight reflecting off his high cheekbones, and it’s like his fingers have a new, electrifying life of their own as they caress over him once before drawing back.

“One day, definitely.” Haruka whispers even though he knows Rin can’t hear. It’s more than what he wants him to hear, either way, and it’s something he needs to promise—himself. “We’ll see a sight we’ve never seen before again.”

And he doesn’t mean to do it. Really, he doesn’t. It’s just that it’s too much—and the summer breeze is playing havoc with his head, thickening the air around them until he feels like he can’t breathe with the tension in the atmosphere, how charged the situation is. It’s almost like it’s lulling him into a sense of safety, of promise, like nothing he does right now matter, that it’ll stay forever secreted away between the pages of the rustling leaves surrounding them—like a summer, an Australian winter, an eternity ago. He feels feverish, almost, like he can’t quite control what he’s doing as he reaches across and brushes his lips across Rin’s, once, twice.

The other man’s eyes flutter open at the touch—and it’s perfectly natural, given that he’d gone to sleep all but ten minutes ago—but how could Haruka have not expected it, maybe he did expect it and he just didn’t care, but he’s panicking now as the space they’re in seems to close in on itself, as his whole world narrows down to Rin’s shocked gaze on him as it dawns on the other what’s just happened.

“Haru?” he whispers, eyes belying a thousand emotions, each more complicated than the last, and Haruka makes to jerk away.

“I’m—”

“No,” Rin murmurs, arms coming up to hold him so he can’t escape, can’t look anywhere but at the man in front of him. “Don’t say sorry.”

And then he’s surging up to kiss him back, and Haruka feels like he’s melting. His brain, his body, everything is just dissolving into Rin’s touch as they kiss like two people who know each other all too well, like it isn’t something new and dizzying and heady, but _oh_ it is, it is at the same time. It’s been a long, long time coming, and Haruka—he realizes that he doesn’t have to run after Rin anymore, that’s Rin’s been running after him, too, that if he has this surety—this, of Rin’s lips and his touch and his heart, then he can swim across their worlds, across any and every rift that divides them.

He takes one hand off where it’s bracing him against the seat, and reaches it across to stroke at Rin’s hair—surprisingly soft—and ends up threading it through the strands, making a gentle fist. Rin makes a small noise into where their lips are joined, eyes fluttering open to look at Haruka with that same sort of burning focus he has when he’s trying to beat his best time in the water.

“God, Haru,” he groans, detaching their lips and yanking at his hand to pull him over into the driver’s seat on top of him. Haruka’s breath quickens as he scrambles over the gear shift, feet numb and stumbling, to sit on Rin’s lap—and it’s too much to process, but Rin is relentless, pulling him horizontal so their bodies are flush. It’s an awkward position for two grown men to be in by any standards, but Haruka isn’t given time to think about it because Rin’s pressing closer, melding their mouths again, and he forgets to do anything but return this kiss, letting Rin coax his mouth open to slide his tongue against his own.

“So fucking long,” and Rin’s hands are wandering now, stroking over his clothed back, gripping his thighs like he needs it more than air to breathe as he mutters disjointed words into Haruka’s mouth. “I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

Haruka’s entire body thrills at his words, spoken low and needy between the slick slide of their tongues—and his gut is telling him _I told you so_ again and again with each press of their lips, their tongues into one another, and he can’t think.

“You have?” It’s all he manages to get out, skin heating up so quickly under Rin’s touch that he thinks he might pass out. There’re too many layers between them, he wants Rin’s skin against his own but doesn’t know how to ask. All he can really do is try as hard as he can to stop his hips from making their little, aborted thrusts against Rin’s own and pray he puts them down to the shivers racking his entire body.

“You have no idea.” Rin whispers, sliding his hands up under Haruka’s shirt—and the shorter fights back the moan of satisfaction that’s building in his throat. “I wanted to tell you a whole fucking year ago. You remember that hotel room in Sydney?”

And Haruka just nods, because how could he forget, arching into Rin’s touch that’s mapping out patterns against his back. Rin pulls back to look at him.

“Yeah. It was—it was almost unbearable for me, having you that close, in the same fucking bed, not being able to do this.” Here he kisses Haruka again, sucking hard on his tongue, and this time he can’t hold back. His hips jerk hard into Rin’s and he moans low into his mouth, making the other groan and throw his head back.

“Don’t,” he mutters out, and Haruka freezes. Rin senses the tension in his body, and before he can berate himself for presuming, before the _you fucked ups_ start running a dirge through his head, he runs his hands across the other’s sides, soothing. “No, I meant…” and his color had been a little high anyway but now his face is beginning to match his hair as he looks away, muttering. “…If you do that, I won’t be—won’t be able to control myself. And I don’t want our first time to be in a shitty car in the middle of nowhere.”

“Rin…” Haruka murmurs, stroking his thumb across his cheekbone, over the little beauty marks flecking them. Looks him in the eye. “It’s been a long time coming. I don’t care. I’m sure.”

And it’s perfect anyway, it’s summer and it’s _Rin_ and how could it not be—and frankly, Haruka can’t wait anymore. He’s waited two years—and he thinks Rin can see it in his eyes, too, because his own glitter with a feral light as he pushes Haruka back a bit, opens the car door.

“You’re something else, Haru, you know?” he laughs, wry, in complete contrast to the expression that’d flashed across his face a moment ago, as the other climbs off him and gets into the backseat. He doesn’t bother with the door himself, just clambers over the gear shift to join Haruka in the back of the car, pulling him on top as he lies back. It’s cramped quarters, but Haruka really cannot bring himself to care when the air in the car is already heating up from their labored breathing as they kiss—and before Haruka knows what he’s doing, he’s rutting his hips down into Rin’s again, and, fuck, Rin’s bucking his hips up, and it makes his core clench up at the delicious friction. Rin’s hands are all the way up his shirt now, running over his chest, and Haruka can’t stop the moan that escapes him when Rin thumbs over a taut nipple.

“Sensitive here?” Rin smirks up at him in return of his glare at the obvious question only meant to tease him, and Haruka retaliates by pushing his hips down into the other’s, where he can feel a hard ridge forming. Rin groans, shucks his shirt off him in one fluid motion to have unrestricted access to the planes of his chest, mouth closing over the nipple he’s not currently teasing with his fingers.

_“Ah—!”_ Haruka’s surprised moan is the only warning Rin gets before the other reaches his hand inside his shirt, in turn, finding his nipple and grazing his fingernail across it to make his hips stutter where they’re grinding up into Haruka’s. Two can play at that game.

“Not fucking fair,” he mutters, then, “God, I can’t wait anymore.”

Haruka’s heart barely has the time to skip a beat in his chest at how absolutely, unfairly _hot_ the other is before his hands are making quick work of the button on his jeans, pulling them down his hips and off his legs with more force than finesse. The air is warm, but Haruka still gasps at the first brush of it against his bare legs, gooseflesh breaking out across his skin as it’s put under Rin’s scrutiny. He’s plain by any standards, and Rin is so—so fucking beautiful under him, gazing up at him with that dark stare of his that promises things Haruka can’t comprehend, only anticipate.

“You’re beautiful—,” Rin breathes is a sharp gasp, planting sucking kisses across his collarbone, down, down over his stomach, which pulls taut under the stimulation. And Haruka wants to hide under the open, unabashed admiration, but there’s nowhere. To run, to hide, and he finds that he doesn’t mind that as much as he should. “So fucking—there’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”

And anything, anything, he wants to kiss the affirmation into Rin’s skin even as their combined hands pull his shirt over his head, undo his pants so he’s as bare as Haruka is. And then Rin’s sitting up, pushing Haruka up with him, and maneuvering them around so that the shorter is sat facing away from him. From here, he has a perfect view of Rin’s cock straining against his boxers and the small wet spot spreading across his boxers at the tip. And it’s intoxicating, really—not just the sight, but the very fact that he can, _has_ done this to Rin.

“Bend over, Haru.” Rin’s voice is husky as he gives the instruction, and the slight tremor in his hands where they’re cupping Haruka’s ass only belies further just how much this whole situation is affecting him. And fuck, if Haruka is to bend over like that, it would mean exposing himself completely to Rin. He feels naked already, even as he wordlessly complies, glad that Rin can’t see his face, which he’s sure is flaming. A cut-off gasp catches in his throat when the other pulls down his underwear, revealing his hole to the other man. He clenches involuntarily, screwing his eyes shut in embarrassment when Rin doesn’t quit staring. It’s just—normal, it’s what the other has, too, but it doesn’t stop the hot flush from spreading its way down his chest, doesn’t stop the embarrassing moan from clawing its way out of his throat when Rin fucking blows over it before planting a kiss on it. It doesn’t—feel good, exactly, but he’s sensitive there, and the way his nerve endings are lighting up at the stimulation makes his whole body jerk forward, pushing his face into Rin’s clothed bulge. The musky scent of it invades his senses, making, somehow, his mouth water—and ten minutes ago, he would probably have repressed that urge. Now, though—it's something of the embarrassment at Rin seeing, touching, kissing his most intimate places, it’s something of the recklessness that comes with getting something you’ve wanted ever since you learnt to appreciate it, but he doesn’t hold back. Bracing himself to iron out the shake in his hands, he pulls Rin’s boxers down, letting his cock, hard and flushed and leaking at the tip, spring free.

“Fuck—,” Rin hisses in relief, then moans low in his throat when Haruka licks over his hand to grip him, stroking him up and down. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he’s just touching him the way he touches himself, but it seems to work, with Rin’s breathing coming quicker and his abs tensing underneath him. This reaction in no way prepares Haruka for what he does next.

“Rin _—ah, fuck—,”_ Haruka’s voice comes out as a moan when Rin licks a wide stripe over his hole and balls, once, tentatively—then emboldened by his reaction, does it again. “What—what are you _doing—”_

“Mmmm,” Rin hums it right there against him, and fuck, fuck it’s starting to feel good now—and _good_ is an understatement for the way Haruka’s back arches when Rin points his tongue to breach his entrance, fucking it in and out of him. Haruka’s body writhes, hand stuttering where it’s jerking Rin off—and he doesn’t know what in hell it is that’s possessed him then, makes him open his mouth to lick all the way up Rin’s shaft from base to tip, except that he likes the way Rin moans, almost tortured, at it.

“More, Haru, fuck—,” Rin moans, head thumping against the car seat where he’s eating Haruka out. And it only spurs him on, the way he sounds so vulnerable and downright fucking needy, to take the head on his cock in his mouth. He’s rewarded immediately with Rin moaning against his hole, and it feels so fucking good that Haruka doesn’t even hesitate, sinks down on Rin’s cock until it pushes against the back of his throat. His gag reflex kicks in almost instantaneously, but it’s well worth it when Rin’s tongue spasms, one hand coming up to knead his balls while the other pulls his cock down, getting it within reach of his tongue. He flicks at the head of it with it, hollowing out his cheeks and pushing the tip of it into his mouth. And Haruka’s entire body goes slack as he moans around Rin’s cock, knees buckling at the pure, unadulterated pleasure that shoots through him at the action.

But now his vision is blurring as Rin keeps on sucking, pausing occasionally to lave at the entire shaft with his tongue, hands clenching where they’re gripping his thighs. He doesn’t even notice when Rin pushes the first finger inside him, the stretch of it only registering when he curls it, sparks of pain-pleasure shooting up his spine as it curls in on itself. In imitation of Rin, he brings a hand up to fondle his balls, and he can almost hear Rin gritting his teeth as he strokes along his inner walls with the finger, probing for something. The question dies on Haruka’s lips when he finds the little hardened nub he’s looking for, replaced instead by a low, throaty moan as he clenches in surprise at the electricity that runs through him. The prostate gland—he’s learnt about it in some forgotten Biology class he’s only half paid attention to in the first place, of course, but he’s never, ever thought that it’s be Rin who’s currently rubbing along it, making him want in ways he’s never wanted before.

“You’re so tight, Haru—fucking hell—,” Rin’s voice is shaky even as he murmurs this last against his cock, fingers disappearing from inside him for a brief moment before he presses inside with two. And fuck—he definitely feels it this time, the burning stretch—but what with Rin still sucking at the head of his cock, stroking his balls, his body is so thoroughly confused he doesn’t know what to feel.

“God, Rin—,” It’s all he can think to say, really—and the other part of what he’s thinking, that he wants it quicker, more, he doesn’t know how to put into words. So he sucks harder, trying to draw out of Rin what he wants to see, speeds up the pace of the hand kneading his balls, and Rin lets out a long, shuddering moan in answer.

“Fuck, Haru, stop—,” he gets out, breathing choppy, fingers curling right over his prostate. “Or I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Then—fuck, Rin, give me _more.”_ He’s almost whining now, he knows, but he can’t stop, can’t help it, can’t force down the way he moans long and loud when Rin almost growls, pushing back in with three fingers, scissoring them wide open. He knows, too, what a sight he looks now, spread out open on Rin’s fingers, hole gaping and cock twitching, and he hopes to all hell that it’s enough to snap the last of Rin’s tether.

“More?” Rin snarls, yanking his fingers out of him and manhandling him, almost, back the right way and flipping them over so that he’s on top. And Haruka’s entire world slows down, tunnels to that point where Rin is hooking one of his legs over his shoulder, spitting into his hand to slather up his cock before lining it up at Haruka’s entrance. “I’ll fucking give you more.”

And then he’s pushing in, god he’s pushing in, and Haruka fights the urge to scream at the overwhelming burn, but also at the feeling of fulfillment, of completeness and just—satisfaction like a fulfilled prophecy. He bites his lip to keep it all in even as Rin sheathes himself to the hilt, hands scrabbling uselessly at his back for some fucking outlet to everything he’s feeling inside him. They’re both panting, the air is basically steam fogging up the windows at this point, and Haruka doesn’t think he’s ever felt happier, more on edge—ever in his life. He closes his eyes, wills down the burn into something bearable, and the fucking second he thinks he can handle it, he opens them back up to look straight at Rin. And he’s so absolutely beautiful in that moment, eyes wild with barely concealed restraint and sweat dripping down his nose, that his voice catches in his throat before he can speak.

“I’m ready,” he breathes, finally, and hardly a moment after those last syllables have left his lips, Rin makes a shallow, aborted thrust, groaning low and bitten-off in his throat. They both gasp at how _much_ it is, and then Haruka tilts his head back, exposing his throat, and gives himself to Rin. Except that it doesn’t feel like surrender, more like Rin’s giving himself up, too, as he begins to move in earnest. It feels—like nothing Haruka can ever describe, Rin’s fucking him like a man possessed, hitching his other leg up onto his shoulder to bend him double. The new angle hits deeper, deeper than he’s ever felt, and he barely feels his eyes sting as the tears come into them.

“There?” Rin breathes as a strangled moan is punched out of Haruka when he angles his hips a certain way, and he can only look up at him with teary eyes as the other does it again, then again. “Right there?”

“God, yes, there—Rin—,” there’s no point even lying to him at this stage, when everything he’s feeling is written so plain across his features, spelled out in his voice. He can only feel, let himself be swept away in that tidal wave of pleasure as Rin snaps his hips into him, faster, faster. It’s something tender, something fragile and yet titanium-clad, when Rin brushes the tears away from his face with shaking fingers, kissing him deep and swallowing his moans into his own mouth.

“Fuck,” Rin grits out when Haruka clenches down around his, some from pleasure and some just seeing how far he can push the other man. Bites at his bottom lip and marks his bare throat up in purpling hickeys he has no idea how he’ll explain to his team come practice tomorrow. But he doesn’t care, not when Rin’s panting into his mouth like he is, mouthing around half-formed words. “Can I go from behind, Haru?”

“Yes, _yes—_ ,” he’s barely got the words out, uncaring of what Rin’s doing so long as he keeps doing it, before Rin’s flipping him over. He’s given a brief moment of respite before Rin’s driving back in, harder than before. It’s bit more difficult to get the right angle this way, but it goes so much deeper he almost thinks he can feel—

“God, my dick’s fucking bending inside you, _shit,”_ Rin gasps out, and it wasn’t just Haruka’s fevered imagination, then, that feeling—and it shoots a wave of electrifying arousal through Haruka, so strong he sinks down onto his forearms, knees giving way. Rin hitches him back up, turning his face to kiss him more, deeper, as his dick twitches inside him. “Fuck, I can’t last much longer like this.”

And it’s an echo of Haruka’s thoughts, that little frustrated moan he lets out when Rin pulls out of him, turning him over again to face him, driving back in with a force not entirely sane.

“Fuck, Haru—I love you, I fucking love you so much—,” he murmurs against his mouth, thrusting into him so hard it’s almost animalistic—and something hot stirs in the pit of Haruka’s stomach as he tries to form the words to answer him, voice breaking when Rin wraps a hand around his cock to bring him off in fast, sloppy jerks.

“I’ve— _ah—_ I’ve always loved you, Rin,” Haruka breathes back, the coil in his stomach tightening, ready to snap when Rin pulls him closer, as close as they can get, hand a blur over his cock, so fucking heady it makes him buck his hips up, head thrashing against the seat.

“Really? Fuck—really?” Rin sounds so incredulous that it hurts somewhere in Haruka’s chest, his disbelief. He answers Rin by clenching down around him as hard as he can, pulling him into one final kiss, feeling his hips buck into him, stuttering, one final time before hot fluid spurts into him. And that’s just about as much as his restraint can take, back arching into the other’s body as he screams, vision whiting out with the pace of Rin’s hand on his cock, which doesn’t stop as he comes and comes, only when he’s whimpering from oversensitivity.

He’s still shaking long after the orgasm has passed, after they’ve cleaned themselves off with the tissues lying in the glove compartment and he’s lying in the backseat, curled up naked against Rin’s chest, watching the condensation run down the windowpanes.

“You cold, Haru?” Rin asks him, pulling him tighter against himself, and Haruka shakes his head.

“Did you see it?” He answers the question with one of his own—and it shouldn’t, wouldn’t make sense to anyone but the two of them. But Rin understands, looks at Haru with eyes warm and limpid.

“Only with you, Haru.” He drops his head to rest on Haruka’s shoulder. They still haven’t talked about it—about them, what they’d said in the heat of the moment, but maybe they don’t need to. Maybe it’s enough, like this, if they can keep seeing the sight together. “Only with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> KUDOS AND COMMENTS MAKE MY FOOKIN DAY. I tried something new with the writing style this time, so please do tell me how you liked it!


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